


Remix

by Lunafeather



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, F/M, Missing Scene, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2020-05-13 09:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19248103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunafeather/pseuds/Lunafeather
Summary: Collection of one shots -- missing scenes, extended or embellished scenes, post episode scenes, and canon divergent scenes -- based on each episode of the show.Expect fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, etc. I take prompts/ideas at my tumblr (same user name).





	1. 1.01 Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> As described in the summary of this fic, each piece could be anything! As of now, none of them will be linked, but that may change. Yes, they will be Brio based, but other characters will appear. Tags/Rating/Archive Warnings may change.
> 
> Also I am lowkey annoyed that 1.10 is called Remix because it makes the name of this fic confusing, but whatever.

Sun spills from between fluffy white clouds to bathe the two story, foliage adorned standard suburban house with light as Rio rolls up to the curb, and he can’t help thinking that this bitch lives in some kind of fucking movie. It almost fizzles the edges of his annoyance into amusement, cause damn if he doesn’t love shattering a few dreams here or there. Bullet and Demon pull up behind him as he steps out of his car and he nods at them to follow as he glances around -- the neighborhood is serene and warm and _safe_ and that just pisses him off even more -- then picks his way carefully through the bushes and plants that split this lot and the neighbor’s until he’s in the backyard and climbing up the steps to a square paned door that, when peeking through the glass, reveals the kitchen -- and a dog. Rio starts when the dog yips, but it’s languidly wagging its tail so Rio jimmies the door open anyway. The dog lurches forward through the gap to wind around his legs, panting happily, tongue lolling out the side of its mouth and waiting eagerly for pets.

Typical golden retriever.

Rio slides his fingers through the fur on top of its head, scritches a little behind its ears, pointedly ignores Bullet and Demon watching the exchange.

“You gotta go potty?” he asks the dog, and its ears perk up before trotting down to the grass and relieving itself. He -- and he’s definitely a he -- follows Rio and his boys back into the house.

The inside of the house is what he expected: bright, nicely decorated, prim, proper. _Quaint_. What he doesn’t expect is that it is obviously lived in, but still well maintained and clean. He’s impressed -- he had sent some of his guys to case the place, figure out the family schedule so that he could catch her on her own, and so he’s aware that she’s got four young kids, a dog, and a husband. He knows how much of a mess just _one_ young kid causes.

It’s quiet in here, too, so he takes his time wandering through the kitchen and the living room and the family room, opening and closing cabinets and drawers, plucking things out to examine them before returning them, then meanders back to the kitchen when he gets the alert text from the guy he has tailing her that she’s on her way back. He hops up onto the counter and lays his gun next to him, folding his hands in his lap and fighting the smile threatening to crack across his face because damn if this isn’t fun, but he thinks she’ll be more intimidated if he’s the serious, threatening, tatted Mexican stranger in her house.

They don’t wait long. Fifteen minutes of Bullet and Demon chuckling and exchanging memes behind him later, there’s the sound of a key in the front door lock and the dog zips away, ready to welcome her. Rio listens patiently as she greets the dog back, asking him if he needs to go potty. He feels that thrill of a confrontation buzz across his skin when she rounds the corner and he announces, “Nah he’s good.”

She screams, dropping her grocery bags and purse in the process, then freezes with her eyes on him.

“We already took him out.”

It’s hard to fight the smirk now, _really_ hard, because the look on her face and the way she yelped and -- shit, she’s fucking _gorgeous_. The surveillance footage from Fine n’ Frugal was terrible (a fact he intends to remedy) so he could just make out her shape, and yeah he’d been intrigued, but he definitely wasn’t expecting _this_. He doesn’t let his gaze sweep her body just yet, is too focused on sharp blue eyes and the dimple in her chin. He watches her clock the gun sitting on the counter next to his hip, watches her eyes -- wide and startled -- flick from him to Demon to Bullet and back to him, and when she speaks again her voice is surprisingly steady.

“What do you want?”

“Oh relax, Sweetheart.” He hops down from his perch, finally giving in to the smirk as he drifts closer to her, their eyes locked. “I just need you to call your lady friends over so we can all have... a little talk.”

“About what?”

“Oh, about the money you stole from us.”

She trembles a little like a leaf, then swallows a big breath of air. Again he’s impressed by how calm she remains, how put together -- no crying, no begging, no denying. He takes the opportunity to finally soak every inch of that delicious body in while he’s a few feet away, dragging his eyes from her strawberry curls to the gentle slope of her shoulders, across a glorious rack and down to the pinch of her waist, along the flare of her hips. When his eyes lift again to hers, her eyebrow is arched and there’s something in the quick squint of her eyes, but it’s gone as fast as it came.

She swallows, bending oh so slowly and flailing for her purse straps to haul it up and dig for her phone, refusing to break their eye contact. His smirk curls into a wicked grin.

She’s sharp.

He moves to lean casually against the counter a few feet away, hands still buried in his pockets, and continues to watch her, taking in the way she huffs a fortifying breath before finally looking down at her phone and tapping the screen. She lifts it to her ear and listens to it ring, eyes catching his again before darting to his mouth when he draws his lower lip between his teeth.

Huh.

That odd phantom look appears and disappears again in an instant.

He narrows his eyes at her, but she just stares stoically back until -- “Annie, I need you to come over. Right now.”

A pause.

“I know, I know-- Take her to Gregg’s and come over. I--” She turns away from him, leaning down so that her hair hides her face. “ _Annie, I swear to god, just come over here and I will explain, okay?”_ she whispers harshly, using what sounds very much like a mom tone. She hangs up quickly then dials again. This time the call goes more smoothly, less interruptions and definitely no mom voice. She tucks her phone back into her purse and drops it back to the floor.

“It’ll be about twenty minutes.”

Rio nods, sticking his lower lip out before jutting his chin at the little bench across the way from where he lounges.

“Sit.”

There’s a brief flash of righteous indignation in her eyes, but she smothers it, nodding and obediently following his command. He can’t help but appreciate the view when she turns her back to him.

Shit.

Everything about this suburban bitch is prim and proper and _quaint_ , just like her fucking house. It should annoy him, should definitely _not_ intrigue him, but he can’t help this weird magnetic pull he feels, especially when she stares defiantly back at him as silence settles over the room. There’s still that thread of terror winding through her shoulders and down her spine, making her rigid and alert, but big blue eyes are hard as steel, even if they are buffeted by a dapple of light freckles and a patchy flush on her cheeks.

They watch each other for a few minutes before she asks, voice a little meek, “How did you know where I live?”

He just quirks an eyebrow at her.

She sighs, put out. She chews on her lower lip a moment before, “How did you get in?”

Much to his own surprise, he chuffs and lets his eyes flick to the back door, watches her follow his line of vision. Her brow furrows and even from here he can see her brain spinning a mile a minute.

Her eyes catch his again. “Did you really let my dog out?”

This makes him chuckle. “Sure did.”

She glares at the dog where he has settled in for a nap in the sun. “Traitor,” she hisses.

Rio watches him, a little jealous. A nap sounds amazing right about now. He doesn’t have Marcus this week, so maybe when he finishes up here…

He turns back to her and grins when he catches her gaze gliding up his body. She startles, then stubbornly tips her chin up, her eyes challenging. His grin becomes salacious and the flush on her cheeks spreads down her neck in response. He watches her chest heave just a bit more, her breathing picking up. He can practically see her pulse jumping in her throat.

It’s too bad that she stole from him; he wouldn’t mind getting a taste of pristine white housewife, just for the hell of it, just to see what it’s like.

And shit, he thinks he could get lost in those huge Bambi eyes -- the ones currently locked with his, electrifying the air between them. There’s that magnet pull again. It makes the tips of his fingers itch, desperate to know the texture of her skin, the silkiness of her hair. The hostility that sharpens the angles of her face fades, replaced with curiosity and a sick sort of awe.

The front door opens, shattering the moment -- a loud, “Beth! What the hell is going on?” echoes from the foyer and he nods at her, giving her permission to meet her girls halfway.

 _Beth_.

Must be short for _Elizabeth_.

He smiles.


	2. 1.02 Mo' Money Mo' Problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consider the second section a replacement scene -- instead of the scene in Ruby's diner, this scene happens --it also takes place later in the episode timeline, after Beth goes to the pawn shop.
> 
> Inspired by Jesshill88 on Tumblr, who sent a message prompt for this episode that requested Rio's boys' thoughts on why he lets the girls live.

To say that he is a little concerned about his boss would be a small understatement. The guy has been single for as long as Bullet can remember, even when you throw Pop into the mix -- the kid a result of a friends with benefits situation, as far as he knows, a happy little accident. It's nice, he thinks, to watch the boss when he's with his son. There's more light in his eyes, he laughs more, is less prone to scowling.

 

Bullet wonders if it's weird to notice these things, but really, they've all become an odd sort of family themselves over the years, haven't they? He wouldn't necessarily call himself the kid's uncle or anything, but he still makes sure to get Marcus a birthday present and maybe sneaks him a candy or two when his dad isn't looking. And he's been sent on plenty of watchdog missions outside the kid's mom's house.

 

Still, though. They're about all Rio has these days, and that's pretty sad, you know?

 

The real concern doesn't start until the Fine & Frugal on Kennedy gets hit and they roll up to watch the surveillance video to see who's encroaching on their turf. Boss watches in a curious kind of disbelief as three women storm the store, dressed in black and wearing ski masks. His eyes track the tallest one the longest, hand covering his mouth as he examines her. When he barks out the order to track the women down, Bullet goes without hesitation, but he does catch Rio's smirk when the man's hand drops.

 

Crashing the strawberry blonde's house had been fun, hearing her scream in surprise at their presence and seeing that terrified yet steely look on her face when the boss approached her. Then the surprising bit -- Rio and this bitch staring each other down, and the boss' back had been to him for the most part, but Bullet had seen her gaze tracking Rio's body. He knew Rio was doing the same back.

 

And _that_ isn't the surprising part, because while she ain't his own type really (he prefers women a little less _milky_ ), he can recognize that she's got a delicious curve to her body and a resoluteness that belies those wide Bambi eyes.

 

The surprising part is that the boss can't seem to keep his eyes off her, can't seem to stop his voice from dropping low and intimate, and Bullet  _knows_ this chick ain't his boss' type either, and yet…

 

Rio lets her fire off a couple questions, looks for all the world like he's deeply enjoying that thread of fire coiling up through her body to her eyes -- and yep, this is definitely concerning. Not that Rio treats women like shit, quite the opposite actually. His mom and his sisters drove a deep respect for women into his fiber -- Bullet has seen it first hand. But he also doesn't usually let anyone, especially prudish, middle aged white ladies, talk back without putting them in their place -- gently or decidedly _not._

 

When they leave the three women stunned and crying in that too-suburban kitchen, Rio is practically buzzing next to him and Dags, the latter of whom shares a sharp eyebrow raise behind the boss' back. Bullet shrugs, mouth quirking.

 

"You think they're gonna get our money back, boss?" he asks as they make their way down the front steps.

 

Rio shrugs, looking back over his shoulder at the house. He's smirking when turns back. "Dunno, guess we'll see, huh?"

 

* * *

 

They show up at the house again the next day, this time startling the strawberry blonde -- _Beth_ \-- as she's carrying a laundry basket from down a hallway towards the stairs. She shrieks again, too, prompting Bullet to roll his eyes and shoot Dags a look -- what is up with these chicks? How could anyone be this jumpy?

 

"Oh, sorry baby, you want some help with that?" Rio asks sardonically.

 

Bullet notices her outfit at the exact same time Rio does, eyes catching on her as she slowly straightens, abandoning the laundry at her feet. She's wearing a white dress with some kind of sparse red and blue floral pattern, the skirt free and flowy around her thighs, the bodice form fitting against her waist and chest. Over the dress is a bright, royal blue wrap thing that ties just below her breasts, the long sleeves pushed up to her elbows. The blue contrasts beautifully with her skin tone and the reddish blonde of her hair, and makes her eyes seem all that brighter.

 

Aight, so maybe he can see why the boss is so drawn to her.

 

She notices them noticing her about two seconds later and stands up a little straighter, subtly thrusting her chest out and tipping her chin up.

 

"Goin' somewhere, sweetheart?" Rio prowls a bit closer, not hiding the way his eyes devour her.

 

 _Her_ eyes don't leave his. "No, I was waiting for you gentlemen to show up." It's polite on the surface, but just underneath is that defiance, sharp and metallic.

 

"You always dress this nice when you're expecting strangers in your house? Or is this just for us?"

 

Rio circles her slowly, calculatingly. She doesn't follow him, instead catches Bullet's eye, and a small shudder ripples through her body. Boss' head snaps up and there's a warning on his face -- Bullet didn't realize he was leering that openly, and that expression means Rio has claimed her, whether he realizes it or not. Bullet is starting to think _not._

 

Rio comes back around, eyebrows raised expectantly. Beth hesitates, unsure, but then says, quietly, "Just for _you_." Everything and everyone in the room stills, breath held.

 

No one was expecting her to say _that_.

 

Rio's eyes narrow and he takes her body in again, slow and deliberate. "Yeah?"

 

She swallows. "Yes."

 

"And why's that?"

 

The fingers of one hand fidget idly with the hem of her skirt, anxious, skittish. "We couldn't-- We don't--" She swallows again, thickly this time, like her saliva is sticking in her throat, then powers through. "We’re having trouble with the last bit of money and I… I thought maybe I could offer you something else instead. In exchange." A pretty blush has begun to bloom across her nose and cheeks, even as she licks nervously at her lower lip.

 

Rio tracks the movement with keen interest.

 

"Is that so?"

 

He edges closer, studying her face. Bullet and Dags share another look -- this broad definitely has some balls.

 

Rio stops a foot or so away from her, tongue pressed to the corner of his lips in thought. It's only now that Bullet notices she's barefoot because Rio has to look down to meet her eye. He and Beth stare at each other for a long moment, a silent challenge, like they're each waiting for the other to break. Without looking away, he grabs her left wrist and brings her hand up between them, gently rubbing at her naked ring finger.

 

"You take off that ring for me, too? Or was that to make yourself feel better about what you're offering?"

 

"I sold it." There's that steel again.

 

Rio tips his head back a little to study her through his lashes -- she glares back, resolute and determined, like his question has bolstered her resolve.

 

"That right?" It's more to himself than anything, and Bullet can barely make out the words.

 

Now, he knows his boss. He knows Rio would never touch a woman who doesn't want to be touched, knows he respects consent. But this chick _wants_ to be touched, he can see that desire rolling off of her in waves.

 

Rio reaches up with his free hand and uses his pinky to tenderly brush her hair from her face. "You sure this is what you want?"

 

Beth's eyes flick to his mouth and she sways a little towards him, but there's a barely restrained panic in her eyes.

 

Rio's hands fall away and he steps back. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

 

Her eyelashes flutter in surprise, blinking back sudden tears. His words take a second to sink in, but once they do -- "Wait, no, I--"

 

Rio nods to Bullet and Dags, gesturing towards the door. Bullet shrugs a question in response, because they definitely haven't gotten what they came for.

 

"Sorry, sweetheart, I like my partners to be enthusiastically willing."

 

"But--"

 

"You got one more day. We'll see you back here at one o'clock tomorrow, yeah?"

 

Beth splutters behind them as they exit through the kitchen door, and Bullet thinks he might hear her let loose a string of expletives as she kicks the laundry basket.

 

“What are we giving them more time for, Boss? I thought they had a deadline.”

 

Bullet wonders where Dags gets the nerve to ask the question, is curious about the answer but not curious enough to risk the boss’ ire.

 

But Rio just shakes his head. “Ain’t you curious what else this bitch can come up with when pressed?” he asks, lips pursed in amusement. “Cause I don’t know about you, but I certainly wasn’t expecting _that_.”

 

Bullet doesn’t miss the appreciation in his voice. Beth’s gotten underneath his skin and piqued his continued interest. Rio seems pleased, curious, like the last ten minutes have boosted his mood. And Bullet knows he should be happy his boss is happy.

 

But if that’s the case, why does he have such a bad feeling about all of this?

 

* * *

 

Rio describes their game plan for the afternoon. They’ll go in, count the money, and if the girls are short, they stage the house like there’s been a break in and then take the girls out. Bullet is happy to note that Rio’s voice is firm and cold, no attachment to any of the women rearing its head. Maybe the last couple of days were a bout of temporary insanity.

 

It’s the boss, him, Dags, and Spit. The three women sit at the ornate dining room table, duffel bag between them, open with piles of cash ready to be checked. Rio nods at Bullet to count as the other men hang back, watching expectantly. Bullet takes his time, methodical and organized, but he doesn’t miss the way Rio and Beth seem to be staring at each other, Beth’s face carefully blank and Rio’s trying -- and failing -- to hide his usual smirk.

 

They’re short.

 

Bullet isn’t surprised. He wonders if Rio will be, got the sense that the boss thought the women might be able to pull the missing money out of their asses. He turns and catches Rio’s eyes, shaking his head.

 

Rio’s jaw rocks back and forth in disappointment before he saunters up to the table and announces, “You’re short.” His gaze lands heavily on Beth, sizing her up.

 

“No, we’re not.” It’s the smallest of the women, and Rio’s eyes flick over to her.

 

“Yeah, you are.”

 

“Actually,” the small one says, “we’re over.” Rio’s eyes narrow as she pulls out a shoe box from under the table. “See, these are super rare collectibles.” She opens the box and carefully removes a few small, fragile figurines and stands them in front of her.

 

“Treasures,” Beth interjects. Rio licks his lips as he turns to look at her, and Bullet can tell it’s a sign of danger to come.

 

“Yes! Sister, you’re correct. That’s a better word for these, because these super rare treasures go for ten to fifteen G’s on eBay.”

 

Rio shoves his hands in his pockets and nods along, the perfect image of genuine curiosity. Bullet just takes in a deep breath and slowly lets it go, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

“How much legwork is there, right?” the little sister continues. “But the truth is, it’s very little. Because we have done the lion’s share of the work for you. Ruby?”

 

While Beth smiles tentatively, encouragingly, Ruby stutters out a nervous breath as she slides over a manila envelope. “These are the usernames and passwords for our eBay accounts. Plus auction tips to maximize your profits.” Her eyes are wide and terrified as she pulls her hand back.

 

Bullet watches Rio’s shoulders tense, watches him stare, dumbfounded, at the women. He must be having the exact same thought -- these bitches really think this shit makes up for the tens of thousands of dollars they’re short? _Really?_   Bullet turns and catches Dags’ and Spit’s eyes; there’s enough bewilderment and amusement to go around.

 

Rio looks again to Beth, lips twitching. “You want me to sell your dolls.”

 

It’s not a question.

 

Beth smiles up at him, her confidence growing, like she thinks this stunt might actually work. “Tell him about Hans.”

 

“Ooh, our little drummer boy. The pride of Hamburg,” little sister chuckles. Rio swivels to stare at her instead. She nudges a figurine closer to him and he leans down, faux interest blanketing his face with a spurious, boyish smile as he takes the fragile object between his hands. “You see, Hans here is one of only twelve in the entire--”

 

Rio strikes like a snake, lifting and slamming his fist down onto the figurine so hard that it shatters, the girls shrieking in surprise and jumping away from him. He clenches the jagged pieces in his fists, bowing his head in a tell tale attempt to reign in his anger before lifting a palm to rub at his mouth with forced calm.

 

Little sister stutters a little, then says, “Eleven in the world…”

 

“This some kind of joke to you?” he asks her, his chin propped in his hand.

 

Bullet’s eyes scan each woman, taking in Beth’s trembling shoulders and the tears tracing down her cheeks, Ruby’s curling in on herself like maybe if she tries hard enough she’ll disappear, Little Sister’s frozen, ramrod straight spine as she’s caught in the cross hairs and shakes her head in answer to Rio’s question.

 

Rio stares down at the aftermath of his outburst, then lifts his head to gaze into Beth’s eyes. Her breath catches in her throat.

 

“I’m done playing with you guys.” It’s soft, discontent.

 

Her eyebrows twitch and she swallows, and the air is charged -- and then the moment is broken as Rio stands and walks away, nodding to Bullet and the others. Dags and Spit begin trashing the house while Rio takes out his phone and perches himself on the coffee table in the next room. Bullet pulls his gun from his belt and his silencer from his pocket and attaches them together.

 

This isn’t his favorite part of the job. Especially not when it involves women, but he knows what they have to do to protect their business, their livelihoods, their families.

 

The women shriek and cry out as the rooms around them are thoroughly destroyed.

 

“What are they doing?” Little sister asks, panicked.

 

“Making it look like a home invasion,” Ruby answers.

 

“So they can kill us.” Beth’s voice is wispy and wet.

 

“Please don’t do this!”

 

“Wait, please wait!” Little sister begs. “We can get you the money, I swear! Please!”

 

“We have families. We have kids!”

 

It’ll be quick and painless, he tells himself as he lifts the gun towards Beth and presses it to her temple. She squeezes her eyes shut, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Ruby and Little Sister clutch at each other from across the table, crying out and pleading. He’s not gonna lie -- he’s impressed by Beth’s stoicness, the way she sits up straight, waiting for it, trying to prepare for her fate, her hands twisting and wringing together.

 

He looks over at Rio for his signal.

 

The boss doesn’t look up from his phone, lost in whatever it is he’s doing, unaffected by the chaos around him.

 

Beth hiccups on a sigh, steeling herself. Then, “You’re an idiot.”

 

“Beth!” Little Sister's voice is shrill.

 

She glares over at Rio, defiant and righteously angry despite the tremble in her voice. Bullet recognizes that fire, that thread of temerity that has reared its head before. She latches onto it, curls it around her spine, reinforcing her spirit. “What, are you gonna blow our brains out all over the room?” she demands, her voice gaining strength despite an occasional wobble. “Because that’s how it works, right? Someone shorts you, and they get tossed out like trash? And no one cares, and no one even notices. Your problem this time is, that’s not us. We’re normal people.”

 

Her gaze doesn’t waiver, even when Rio finally lifts his head to look back at her. He glances at Bullet, who looks coolly back, unimpressed, then catches her eye again. His expression remains cold and distant.

 

“We pay our taxes, and we take our kids to PF Chang’s, and we take orange slices to soccer games.”

 

Bullet watches in fascination as that fear dissolves into desperation that crests into fury as she states her case. He can appreciate that she knows how to weave magic with her words and her voice. Rio’s indifference melts into pleasantly surprised respect.

 

Beth swallows. “And when bad things happen to good people, everyone else goes crazy. It’s all over the news and there are all these hashtags and movements. Because if it could happen to us, it could happen to anyone. So, if you wanna invite all of that attention,” she taunts, full of heady gravitas, “over a few grand, then you’re not the smart businessman you think you are.”

 

The tension between the two of them is thick and electric, like there’s no one else in the room. It makes Bullet a little uncomfortable, like he’s intruding on an intimate moment.

 

Rio licks at the corner of his lips, studying her, weighing her. His jaw rocks back and forth in thought.

 

“Now roll the dice. Tell him to pull the trigger. See what happens.”

 

The command is fierce and insolent until her voice breaks on the last word, and her fear seems to rush up and overwhelm her, releasing a fresh wave of tears. Rio keeps watching her, his smirk slowly swelling up into a smug grin, pleased and charmed and arrogant. He lets her start to tremble, her courage leaving her, says nothing in response to her speech. Bullet refuses to be moved, knows that she’s got nothing to lose, knows that her words are idealistic and over inflated.

 

So he’s a bit surprised when he shrugs at Rio, waiting for assent, and the boss shakes his head. Bullet stares at him for a long second in disbelief before slowly lowering the gun.

 

Yep, this shit’s gonna end _badly_. This broad has been in their lives for a mere couple days, and she’s already a heap of trouble.

 

He stifles a sigh and moves to take off the silencer.

 

There’s another long, weighted silence as Rio catches Beth’s eye again, his lip caught between his teeth, and then he is standing and walking out. Spit and Dags follow, while Bullet grabs the bag of cash before leaving, too. He hears a whispered broken, “Sweet Jesus,” from Beth before the girls collectively collapse into tears.

 

Outside, the four of them are quiet until Bullet just can’t help himself --

 

“So the hell was that?”

 

Rio turns and quirks an eyebrow at him.

 

“We should have killed them, boss. They’re more trouble than they’re worth.”

 

Rio’s jaw works back and forth. “You think?”

 

Bullet rolls his eyes. “Yeah.”

 

Rio stops and looks back at the house. “Yeah, maybe. But I got a feeling about her. She’s not like the other two.”

 

He doesn’t have to specify which woman he’s talking about. Bullet is pretty sure that’s part of the problem.

 

“If you say so, man.”

 

Rio just grins. Shrugs. Keeps walking.

 

Bullet sighs.

 

 _Sweet Jesus_ indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this from the POV of the dude with face tats, who I deemed Bullet. The other dude in the scene in the pilot is billed as "Dags" in one of the episodes in season 1, so that is what he shall be called from here on out. The black dude is Spit, a totally made up name.


	3. 1.03 Borderline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon Divergent extension of the final scene between Beth and Rio -- the one where Rio obviously thought her pearls were a booty call. Rating changed cause uhhhh yeah, it gets a bit steamy.

His fingers brush the cool, round, white-pink pebbles where they dangle on the warehouse doorknob. Immediately his mind flashes back to her in this space, chin dipped downwards, blue eyes wide and a little terrified, but her mouth a firm line of defiance. He'd been caught by the set of her shoulders and the steel in her voice as she'd demanded he say that they were good.

 

Her little nod when the words left his mouth only endeared him even more to her.

 

And the view as she walked away certainly helped, too.

 

Now, to find her pearls during his final sweep of this warehouse… there's a sharp twist in his belly -- anticipation? Curiosity?

 

His mouth curls up into a satisfied smirk full of mirth. He wraps the pearls around and around his long fingers, imagining them draped across her collarbones, heated by the flush of her freckled skin. He imagines his fingertips on the round stones and then up against the smooth column of her throat, up into those strawberry blonde curls. He wonders how stark of a contrast there would be between her pearls and her hair --

 

"Boss, we good?"

 

It's Bullet's voice echoing from down the long, dingy hallway, startling Rio out of his fantasy. He shoves the necklace into his pocket and calls back, "We're good."

 

He meets Bullet and Spit outside and nods at the car the pair came in. "You guys go ahead to the next location, you got it handled. I got something to take care of."

 

His boys shrug and move off.

 

Rio pinches the pearls in his pocket as he gets into his Cadillac.

 

Elizabeth came all the way out here to leave her calling card for him, he sure better return the favor and pay her a visit, yeah? And if he's entirely preoccupied on the drive with images of those wide, steely blue eyes and that full, red lower lip… well.

 

No one needs to know.

 

* * *

 

He comes in through the kitchen door, as per usual, and he's not surprised that it's unlocked. He's sure that she learned her lesson from his first few break ins to secure her home a bit better, but she did invite him in by way of her pearls.

 

He startles her, though not as badly as that first time. She's got her back turned, moving from the stove to the island, carrying a bottle and a glass -- when she senses him, she stutters out a gasp and spins, mouth falling open in surprise. He fights his smile and loses. Her face settles into a calm mask as she sets the glass down and lifts the bottle -- bourbon -- to unscrew the lid, her gaze locked with his, unwavering, solid. She only breaks their eye contact when she pours, then captures it again, staring him down as she takes a sip.

 

He's caught by her, completely, and he's reeled in towards her, his expression still earnest and open, his hands in his pockets. Her pearls are warm in his fist.

 

"You know the tradition is Jordans over a phone line, right?" he asks, and he can't help it that his voice comes out low and smokey.

 

"I only had pumps." Her lips turn up ever so slightly at the corners, and he thinks maybe she's caught, too. There's this buzz between them, crackling and sharp like a live wire, and he has the sudden urge to be set alight.

 

"Fair enough."

 

They hang there, breathless, two stars circling each other, a slow dance that will surely end in a magnificent collision. Every inch of him wants to fast forward to that meld. She must feel it, too, because her smile blooms just a little bit more.

 

"So what did you wanna talk to me about?" The words are so simple, and yet -- laced with promise.

 

Elizabeth hesitates for a moment, and he takes the opportunity to let his eyes drag down her body, soaking in the sage green sweater that makes her hair glow, the v neck that teases a glimpse of cleavage, the nip of her waist and the flare of her hips. When his gaze finds hers again, her mouth is open and there's a blush on her cheeks.

 

He wants to ravage her.

 

Then there's the tiniest little crinkle between her eyebrows, a spark of confusion in her eyes -- if he wasn't drinking her in, if he wasn't laser focused on her, he might have missed it. He can see her pulse jumping in her throat and wants to put his mouth there.

 

"I…" A pause -- she licks her lips, swallows, straightens her spine (which has the _fortunate_ side effect of thrusting her chest out) and continues, her voice strong, "I wanted to see if there was any more work that I -- that _we_ could do. For you."

 

He blinks, surprised.

 

When he doesn't say anything, she adds, "For your... organization."

 

He squints at her, his tongue pressing into the corner of his lips and his head tilting.

 

Well, okay.

 

He may have read this situation _completely_ wrong.

 

The thought had crossed his mind that she might be interested in dabbling a bit more in his world -- for shits and giggles, he's sure -- but that buzz, that connection, he _definitely_ hadn't imagined or misunderstood that. Even now, he feels it. He's never wrong about when a woman wants him.

 

But still, apparently the pearls -- even now curled around his fingers -- were _not_ the kind of call he was expecting (hoping for?).

 

Rio juts out his lower lip and nods, considering, switching tracks. "That so?" he asks, giving himself a little time to shift his focus.

 

Elizabeth watches him curiously, observing him, and damn if she isn't sharp. He wasn't wrong to be drawn to her.

 

"Yes. The situation that drove us to rob the grocery store--"

 

"Rob me, you mean," he interrupts, smirking pointedly.

 

She glares at him and continues as if he hasn't said anything, "--hasn't really changed, so… we'd like to possibly do a few more jobs."

 

Damn. She really just wanted to talk about work.

 

He studies her a bit longer, likes the way she looks expectantly at him, her fear dissolved and forgotten about. He wants to find out what she's capable of.

 

He shrugs. "A’ight."

 

She blinks a few times, eyes narrowing. "'A’ight'?" she imitates.

 

Riling her up is too much fun, and he has a feeling that she _hates_ it. Good.

 

"Yeah. I'll be in touch."

 

He grins at her, sweeping her body again with his eyes, then turns away from her to leave -- he doesn't miss the expression on her face, disbelief making her mouth hang open. It makes his smile even wider.

 

His hand is on the kitchen doorknob when she calls out--

 

"Wait!"

 

Rio turns to find her hovering at the edge of the island, her arms crossed defensively. She watches him intensely, balanced precariously in indecision, and catches her lip between her teeth. That heat bursts back through him -- he wants to run his thumb across that lip, wants to dip his fingertip in the dimple of her chin. Her eyes drop to his mouth, and then dart back up.

 

He watches her expectantly, fighting the urge to go to her.

 

He loses when she doesn't say anything else.

 

As he slowly moves closer, he says, "What, mama? I ain't got all day." The words are impatient but there's no heat to them. Instead they're a rumble, an invitation.

 

Elizabeth swallows, mustering up her courage. "Did you… did you think I called you over here for… a different reason?" She's meek, and he doesn't like it on her.

 

He hates being wrong, and even more so hates being called out on it. He had been hoping to play this whole thing off, pretend he hadn't rolled up here expecting a booty call, that he hadn't been about to leave with his tail between his legs and his libido through the roof. His first instinct is to go on the defensive and deny it, but he shoves that down because he might get what he wants if he plays his cards right -- even if that means suffering a little humiliation.

 

Following his instincts, he crowds her against the counter, leaving a foot of space between them but leveling her with a heavy lidded gaze that pins her in place.

 

"And what reason could that be, huh?"

 

It's a growl that sends a visible shiver racing down her spine. Her eyelashes flutter as she arches up a little, watching his mouth before meeting his eye again.

 

"I don't know," she whispers.

 

"Nah?"

 

His hand lifts to her face and he drags his pinky against her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear before giving in to the temptation to caress that damn dimple. She stutters out a breath and leans into the touch.

 

"I mean, I guess I…" she trails off, lost in the moment, caught in her hesitation.

 

He can tell she wants him to make the first move, wants desperately to be kissed, for him to make that terrifying leap that will confirm she wasn't imagining things -- but he won't do it. She has to make that choice, she has to boss up and confront that fear. He'll be right there when she does.

 

For a second he doesn't think she's going to do it and then she surges up onto her toes and mashes her mouth against his. He catches himself from tumbling backward, buries his hand in her hair to center himself and ground them both, presses his other hand to her back to anchor them together as he kisses her eagerly back. She's like a tigress in his arms, mewling into his mouth when he slides his tongue across her lower lip, lifting her arms to drag her nails across his scalp and his shoulders and his back -- earning herself a deep growl.

 

He slams her backwards into the island, wanting to be as flush against her as possible. She gasps at the impact, breaking the kiss, and he takes the opportunity to nip across her jaw to her throat while his fingers slip under her sweater to smooth along the skin of her waist.

 

"Wait, wait--" She's breathless, panting, the words tumbling out as he drags his lips along the long column of her neck, his nose in her hair. "I don't even know your name. We can't-- I can't--" She gasps when he scrapes his teeth against the spot below her ear.

 

"Rio," he growls into it, and he feels the shudder his voice sparks as it ricochets through her body. He grins. "My name is Rio."

 

All she has to say in response is a tiny little, "Oh," that comes as a sigh as he bites a hickey into her neck. She lets him, whining and writhing as best she can while still being pinned between the hard planes of his body and the sharp edge of the tile, but he can feel her get impatient before the hand at the back of his head curls and the dig of her nails tugs him back into a sloppy kiss. He uses the opportunity to lift her up onto the island, hands on her ass, and he swallows the surprised squeal that spills from her lips at the sudden movement. One hand goes back under her shirt, up, up, up to her bra clasp, which he flicks open with ease.

 

“Did you…?”

 

He chuckles at the awe in her voice.

 

Greedy palms move to shove the cups of her bra up and out of the way so that he can weigh each breast in his hands, his thumbs brushing insistently against already pebbled nipples. Not being able to see them almost makes the sensations even stronger, her silk smooth skin soft and pliable, and the noises spilling from her...

 

But he has to see them, has to have his mouth on them, wants to drive her wild, so he goes to yank her sweater up and off, holds his breath as she lifts her hands to help--

 

Her fingers swat at his hands, and she’s panting, “Wait, wait, wait--” and tugging her shirt back down.

 

Rio presses his forehead against her shoulder and groans. “You’re killin’ me, ma.”

 

She huffs a little laugh, lifting her fingers to rub along the back of his head, teasing his cropped hair until he’s practically purring. “I don’t want you to stop, I mean… my kids are upstairs.”

 

He pulls back to meet her eye. “You want me to go?”

 

Her eyes widen. “No, no! We just… we can’t do this here.” She pushes him back gently, hands at his hips, lingering there even when he moves back to give her room to hop back down to her feet. The movement brings her into his space again, chest to chest, and she hovers there, her fingers curling into his belt loops as she leans up until they’re breathing the same air.

 

She’s looking at him through her lashes, and her mouth is parted, and there’s a delicious flush dappling her cheeks, mixing with the delicate freckles there, and -- wow, she’s really something else. Rio feels a bit like he’s being swallowed whole and at the back of his mind there’s a surge of panic because this is dangerous, this woman has more power than she even realizes, and she could intertwine her way through his walls if she really wanted to --

 

But then she’s brushing her lips oh so tentatively against his, sweet and tender, and he realizes he’s already tumbling, so why not enjoy the ride?

 

“Come on,” she murmurs, taking his hand and leading him out of the kitchen and down a hallway, through a door into her bedroom. His eyes sweep voraciously across the room, soaking in the things that make her _her._ The second she closes the door, though, he descends back on her, crowding her against it until their bodies are aligned, sliding his hand into her hair and kissing her senseless. 

 

He breaks the kiss to strip off the green sweater, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder, then eagerly tugs down the straps of her bra and peels it off of her. It feels like Christmas morning and his birthday all in one when her breasts are exposed to him, full and soft and _jesus_ , warm in his palms. Rio swipes his thumbs over her nipples, relishing her gasp and the way her fingers dig sharply into his shoulders. He nips and bites at the point of her jaw, scrapes his teeth below her ear until she’s arching and whimpering, sucks lightly down her neck to her collarbones and down and down and down until his tongue is swirling over one nipple while he plucks at the other. Elizabeth clings to him, her head pressed back against her bedroom door, panting and rocking her hips into him.

 

He lets go of her nipple with a _pop_ and asks, “that feel good, mama?”

 

She just whines.

 

He kisses down her front to her belly, biting at the softness there, his fingers finding the button of her jeans and popping it free before tugging at the waistband. Elizabeth stiffens as he mouths at her stomach, the fingers in his hair going from turned on and desperate, to nervous and desperate.

 

Rio nuzzles the hem of her panties, feeling himself get harder at the smell of her.

 

“Are you… are you sure you want to…?”

 

He looks up at her and grins, wolfish and self assured. “Oh, darlin’, I’m sure,” he growls, already pulling her pants and her underwear down to her knees. He watches the blush that spreads down between her breasts and licks his lips.

 

“But, I mean… don’t you want to at least know _my_ name?”

 

He had been leaning forward to bury his face against her, but reels back. “Huh?”

 

She giggles, and it’s at least half amused, if also half embarrassed. “My _name_.”

 

He rolls his eyes. “Your name is Elizabeth.”

 

After a brief moment where her mouth gapes in surprise, her nose wrinkles. “Beth, I go by Beth--”

 

“Elizabeth.” He puts as much command as he can into her name.

 

She’s breathless again. “Yeah?”

 

He nods to her cunt. “Can I…?”

 

She giggles again, a little hysterically. “Sure, sure--” The words meld into a loud moan as he dips his index finger between her thighs and expertly finds her clit.

 

He stifles a groan into her hip at how _wet_ she is, nudging her legs apart with his wrist and sliding his fingers until he can sink them inside her, his thumb replacing his index finger on her clit. He rocks his hand, massaging her both inside and out, sucking a hickey into her inner thigh while she cries out above him. He yanks her pants and underwear the rest of the way off and raises her thigh over his shoulder, murmuring, “here, ma, lift”, helping her balance and then lean on him before he presses his mouth to her, dragging his tongue along her slit and then lapping at her clit, holding her hips still against the door despite her best efforts to rock against his face.

 

She’s making the most indecent noises and it sets his blood thrumming with promise. The gratification from those sounds, and the nails scraping through his hair and along the back of his neck, and the insistent roll of her hips in time with his tongue… He could do this _forever_ , could drink from her like she’s the goddamn fountain of youth.

 

He feels her orgasm coming from the way her thighs tense and then tremble, the way she tries to hold his face still against her, the way she keens and gasps. He rides it out, then pulls back and nibbles at the crease of her thigh, his fingers still moving gently inside her, and then, with glee, dives back in, sucking at her and fingering her in earnest. She yelps out a protest, still sensitive, and then she’s coming again, this time biting her wrist to keep from being too loud. Rio leans back to watch her, eyes hooded and entirely satisfied with his performance. He’s practically holding her up.

 

All Elizabeth can say is, “Oh god,” mumbled along with a sweet little gasp when he wipes his mouth on his arm, her eyes getting darker and her cheeks blazing red. She bites her lip down at him.

 

He growls and surges up to kiss her. She sways a little at the loss of support, but he catches her and pins her to the door again. One hand plunges into her curls and the other roughly cups her jaw to hold her in place, and after ravishing her mouth he breaks off to swipe his thumb along her lower lip, dragging it down until it slips free and pressing his nail against the cleft in her chin. Her hands find his hips and tug him sharply against her so that she whimpers when the ridge of his cock, still covered in denim, grinds against the junction of her thighs.

 

“You’re still dressed,” she points out, a little breathless.

 

Rio smirks. “Yeah.”

 

“Would you… I mean,” she glances down at herself and blushes. “Feels a little unfair.”

 

He steps away from her and drags his eyes along her body. Her curves, the peachyness of her skin turned rosy in the best places, the softness of every inch of her… the steely blue of her eyes, framed now by two perfectly arched eyebrows rising steadily to her hairline in indignation. He thinks he must have won the lottery.

 

“Nuh,” he says, and delights in the challenge unfurling in her eyes.

 

Elizabeth tips her chin up and smooths her palms over her belly and down to her hips, and Rio can’t help but map their journey. He reaches out to touch -- she smacks his hands away. He glares at her.

 

Then she’s stepping forward into his space, their faces an inch apart, her breath fanning over his lips until he rocks unconsciously forwards and she’s parrying by leaning away.

 

And then she ripostes and cups his cock through his pants, stroking with that confidence he’s been a little addicted to since the moment she talked him out of killing her.

 

“If you want any help with this, or if you want to touch… you’ll strip.” And then she squeezes him, hard, until he makes a sound deep in his throat and surges forward. She knows, though, is expecting it, so she dances back and presses herself into the bedroom door, that full lower lip pinched between her teeth as she staves off a triumphant little smile.

 

He’s already tearing at the buttons of his shirt.

 

Her triumph melts into appreciation as he reveals his body, and he feels pride swell up inside of him. He works hard on his physique, boxes and lifts weights at the gym, and yeah, maybe he's a little arrogant, but he knows he's good looking. Why should he pretend he's not? Modesty doesn't get you much of anything.

 

It's definitely not what got him here.

 

Elizabeth's eyes trace over his pecs and his belly, glued to the movements of his fingers as he unbuckles his belt and pops the button of his jeans open, her cheeks aflame, like she's been in the sun for too long. As soon as he shoves his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion, her eyes jerk up to meet his, pointedly refusing to watch his cock bounce free, and shit -- he can see the tips of her ears turn pink, but her expression is stubborn, defiant, intense in that way that makes him want to peel her open and stitch the two of them together.

 

He kicks off his clothing and tugs off his socks, dropping them next to the bed. She keeps her gaze locked on his even as he prowls closer, both of them naked now -- but both of them still hiding behind their armor.

 

They stare at each other, inches apart, waiting for the other to make a move, and he thinks she might not do it, tries to quell the surge of disappointment at the thought --

 

But then her hand is lifting to his face so that she can brush her thumb along his lower lip, her own mouth parted as she follows it's path down to his throat until her fingertips trace the edges of his eagle tattoo before wrapping firmly around his neck, palm against his Adam's apple, exerting the smallest bit of pressure. Leaning forward, she ducks her head to the side of his jaw and presses her lips to his pulse, drags her tongue along the ink, and then opens her mouth and sucks a hickey on the wingtip. His neck vibrates against her as he groans.

 

Then he's kissing her, rough and hungry, fingers twisted into her hair, yanking her away from the door and turning her, walking her backwards to her bed and following her down as she collapses onto it. The feeling of her soft curves cushioning the hard planes of his own body -- every nerve ending in his skin seems to be firing at once, the feeling engulfing him as she drags her nails against his scalp, across his shoulder blades and his back.

 

She comes alive beneath him, like she's been bottled up and trapped, like there's an inferno inside her that's finally been unleashed and is well on its way to consuming everything.

 

He's never been afraid of a little fire. Sometimes you get burned, and sometimes you’re reborn.

 

Rio pulls away from her, ignoring her discontented little noise of protest, and leans over the edge of the bed. She watches in disbelief as he digs a condom out of his jeans pocket.

 

"Wow," she scoffs.

 

He looks up to see her shaking her head. She's still panting a little. "What?"

 

She shoots him a pointed look. "You _really_ showed up here expecting to get laid." And she isn't offended, she's _amused_ \-- and at his expense.

 

He frowns at her. "I like to be prepared."

 

She giggles, eyes dancing. "Sure. But I'd like to point out that you completely misread my message."

 

His frown becomes a scowl; there's that bite of humiliation. In retaliation, he grabs her ankles and yanks her down the bed. She shrieks in surprise. He smiles down at her, the edges sharp, predatory, and growls as his mouth hovers tantalizingly over hers, "and _I’d_ like to point out that I _am_ gettin’ laid."

 

"Fair point," is her breathless reply.

 

He fully intends to keep teasing her, but she rocks up to slant her lips across his, her tongue snaking into his mouth to curl against his, and he groans, lowering himself on top of her and into the kiss. They make out like that for a while until Elizabeth starts shifting impatiently below him, her hips rolling against his encouragingly. He chuckles into the kiss, then hisses when she slips a hand between them to wrap around his cock, her soft skin sliding against his. He rocks into her fist, letting himself enjoy the sensation, closing his eyes when she hums, and he knows she’s lapping this up, this power, this control over him, can feel that pride thrumming through her body. He leans back onto his knees and rips the condom packet open with his teeth, watching her chest rise and fall, soaking in the way she bites her lip as she watches him back, her hand retreating from his cock when he lifts his to roll on the condom. She eyes the movement with distinct interest, now seemingly unable to look away despite being reluctant before.

 

Her fingers go to his sides, digging in and trying to pull him down to cover her, but he refuses to budge, smirking at her when she grunts in annoyance. Instead he runs his fingernails along her thighs, brushing the hickeys he left there only minutes ago, admiring his work. When his thumbs nudge into the curls at the top of them, Elizabeth rocks her hips up, encouraging him, but he skates past, palming her soft belly, and then her breasts. He props himself above her with one hand and uses the other to lift one breast up, dropping down to capture the nipple -- but she jerks up to kiss him instead, hard enough that their noses jam together and it’s more a mash of lips than kiss. In seconds, though, their tongues are curling together and she’s biting his lower lip roughly, tugging it with her as she lays back down. He follows her descent, and the kiss turns filthy, eliciting a mewl from her throat.

 

And then he grabs both her wrists in his free hand and pins them above her head. She pants up at him, her lips wet and open, her eyes mutinous and bright with the seed of retribution, and he resumes his previous task of patiently, slowly enveloping her nipple with his mouth.

 

Her moan is a heady mish-mash of frustration and pleasure.

 

He lavishes her breasts with attention, making sure to mark her a few times there as well -- unable to help himself really, wanting her to remember this for days to come. She retaliates for the delay by encircling his hips with her legs and grinding against his erection where it presses just above her cunt, not enough to get either of them anywhere, but enough to drive him past patience. Rio pulls off of her skin and kisses her, reaching between them to line himself up, swallowing her little whine of anticipation.

 

And then he’s sinking into her.

 

He has to tuck his face into her neck to smother the absolutely embarrassing noise he makes, freeing her mouth so that _her_ long, loud cry echoes in the room. She’s wet and tight, clenching eagerly around him, sending pleasure radiating down his thighs and up his back. He gasps for breath and freezes, gathering himself -- he’s barely halfway buried inside her, and he’s got a feeling that it’s only gonna get more intense. He pulls out almost all the way and thrusts inside of her again, repeats the motion until he bottoms out and she’s whimpering, and shit -- he didn’t think the noises she made could have this effect on him, but he was wrong.

 

He circles his hips and thrusts shallowly, grinding his cock against that spot inside her, feeling her rippling around him. He loses himself in the sensation, in _her_ , and then he’s fucking her in earnest, his hips slapping against hers, alternating kissing her wildly and biting at her shoulder, groaning when she begs for _more, harder, yes, please, don’t stop._ She yanks at his hand holding wrists until he releases one so that her nails can scrabble against his shoulder blades, encouraging him, clinging to him. He shifts her legs up higher around his abdomen, until her knees are tucked under his arms and bouncing against her breasts as they move together, and he knows she’s close again when she starts to tremble and her cries of pleasure are choked and stuttering.

 

“I’m -- I’m --” She can’t get past the word before she breaks off into a drawn out moan, clenching around him.

 

A few thrusts later, enfolded by her, squeezed by her, he comes, too, nose against her collarbone. He lets himself slump into her, lets her warmth surround him, feeling like he might float away, then he rolls off and to the side, sliding out of her with a grunt.

 

They lie there on their backs for a moment, panting. Rio tugs the condom off and ties it, tossing it haphazardly onto the floor. When he looks over at Elizabeth, her face is cool, unimpressed, her eyebrow arched.

 

"Really?" she asks, deadpan.

 

He just smirks at her. She rolls her eyes and looks back at the ceiling. He studies her profile, her light eyebrows, the strong line of her nose, her bruised, parted lips, her round chin with the dimple that calls to him, wanting to be bitten.

 

“Why are you staring at me?”

 

He rolls onto his side, facing her, propping his head on his elbow. “Just lookin’. Enjoyin’ the view.”

 

Her eyes flick to him and then away, like she doesn’t quite believe him, but there’s that damn blush again, making her cheeks rosy.

 

Quiet falls over them, and Rio takes his time observing her while she gets lost in her thoughts, letting his eyes trace down her neck and over her breasts, her belly, her hips and her thighs, trying to memorize the image, thinking he can probably charm his way into her bed again in the future, but not wanting to risk the chance she may deny him and he won’t have a clear picture of every inch of her.

 

"You know," she says thoughtfully, a little cautiously, breaking the silence, "it's probably been a decade since anyone… you know…"

 

He lifts an eyebrow, cause… no, he doesn't know.

 

She huffs. "Used...their mouth. On me."

 

"Fuck, your husband ain’t eaten you out in ten years?"

 

She shrugs, clearly mortified by the admission. "Probably longer, to be honest." Her voice is small, and it plucks irritatingly at his skin.

 

"Yeah, well, he's a dumbass."

 

Her eyebrows climb to her hairline, and then she giggles. "Yeah, probably."

 

He lifts his free hand to drag his fingertips along her sternum, stopping to count each freckle and enormously pleased that a flush is already starting to bloom again along her pale skin.

 

"It's, um… it's his fault we robbed the grocery store--" At his pointed look, she rolls her eyes and amends, "--robbed you."

 

"Oh yeah?"

 

Elizabeth nods. "I had to find a way to keep this house, to make sure our children had a roof over their heads. I did what I had to do." She curls onto her side, mimicking his position. "Didn't think I'd end up here," she muses, almost to herself.

 

"In bed with a stranger?"

 

Her eyes bore into his, starkly blue and unbelievably deep. “Something like that.”

 

Something powerful, something undeniable, drives him forward -- he kisses her gently, rubbing his lips against hers, open mouthed and oddly desperate, like maybe he can absorb her this way, take her essence and make it his. She sighs into it, and he’s struck with the impression that she’s trying to steal his, too.

 

Maybe he’s projecting.

 

Shit, he hopes not.

 

He breaks the kiss and rubs his thumb against her chin, against that dimple, and leans forward and bites it.

 

Elizabeth shrieks indignantly and shoves him away while he cackles.

 

He sits up and tugs at the blanket beneath them. “Come on, Ma, gotta get you to bed.”

 

Her face morphs into cool judgment, eyes squinting, lips pursed. “Are you patronizing me?” she asks, even as she helps him turn the covers down and they climb underneath them.

 

“Nah,” he shrugs, looking pointedly at her breasts, “jus’ thought you might be gettin’ cold.”

 

She follows his gaze, notices her nipples standing erect, and hurriedly crosses her arms over her chest, scowling at him. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

 

Rio laughs, gleeful. “Yeah, I heard that before.”

 

Hand on her hip, he forcefully turns her onto her side, facing away from him, and presses himself against her back, notching all of his sharp edges against her curves and knocking her arms out of the way so that he can cup her breast in his palm. She makes a noise in her throat, unsure of his intentions, but the move is more for comfort than anything, and after a long moment, her stiffness melts away. He can’t help himself from purring a little as he noses against her hair, inhaling her and luxuriating in her scent.

 

He should leave, really, instead of risking her getting attached, but shit, she’s warm and she’s cozy and she’s _feisty_ , and he finds himself inexplicably glued to her back, wanting to keep her close, wanting to ward everyone else away, wanting to stake his claim and break her down and watch her put herself back together in new and impressive ways.

 

Fuck.

 

Sleep tugs at him, and he figures she’s a problem for him to solve later, after a good, post-sex nap.

 

He figures he’ll definitely need the energy.

 

* * *

 

Beth wakes to sunlight streaming through the gauzy curtains covering the french doors, blinking blearily at the intrusion. She closes her eyes again, refusing to move, refusing to let the day begin, wondering if she meditates hard enough, will she be able to force herself back to sleep?

 

All at once last night crashes into her and her eyes pop open, wide and alert. She looks to her left, then around the room, but she’s utterly alone, and maybe she dreamt the whole thing, had a little too much bourbon after the kids went to bed, got too cozy in bed, let her imagination coax her to an orgasm that slid her easily into slumber…

 

But the second she moves, even just a little, her _entire_ body protests, every muscle taut and heavy with use. She’s suddenly extremely aware that she’s naked beneath her sheet and blanket, the material sliding against bare skin like a whisper, and she remembers the way Rio had touched every inch of her, gliding his hands against her reverently, like she deserved to be worshiped --

 

She rolls over with a groan and hides her face in the pillow next to her, the one he used as they lay next to each other, as he curled around her.

 

It smells like him.

 

But he definitely ditched her in the middle of the night.

 

She can’t blame him -- it was honestly for the best, considering her children have no boundaries, and certainly won't knock before barging in and seeing her and a random man who was decidedly  _not_ daddy twisted together in bed.

 

Beth just wishes he at least had the courtesy to say goodbye.

 

Maybe she’s being ridiculous -- no, she’s definitely being ridiculous. It was only sex, a heat of the moment culmination of the weird connection she’s been feeling ever since she found him lounging in wait on her counter top. It had felt different, though, had felt… like the beginning of something, had thought she saw it in his eyes, too.

 

She scoffs at herself and tries to shove the aching rejection down until it’s tucked away in its own neat little box. Still, images and sensations and sounds prick on the edges of her mind, reminders that they at least had a good time. God, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever look him in the eye again, not when she knows how dark they can get, not when she knows how his mouth feels against hers, against her skin, between her thighs -- not when she knows the noises he makes when he’s buried to the hilt inside her, or the sound he makes when he comes. He’s not even in the room and she’s blushing!

 

Banging and screeching from down the hall startles her up onto her elbows -- the kids.

 

Sighing, Beth rubs at her eyes and tries to ignore the delicious throb between her legs, tries to stop thinking about running her tongue along his tattoo the way she’s wanted to since she laid eyes on it, tries to stop imagining his voice saying her name.

 

Fuck.

 

Someone in the kitchen drops a few pots and pans, the metal clanging together, and someone else yells to stop it -- Jane and Emma, it sounds like. Beth listens for any other voices, but Kenny and Danny are likely ignoring their sisters. She rolls her eyes and moves to sit at the edge of the bed, as ready as she’ll ever be for the day to start. She’s about to stand when something on the side table catches her eye --

 

A black, braided loop of what looks like some kind of twine.

 

She swallows, reaches out to gingerly touch it, picking it up and rubbing it between her fingers.

 

It’s one of the bracelets Rio never seems to go without, the realization striking her like lightning, spiking down her spine to her toes.

 

She smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently on hiatus from tumblr, so please direct any suggestions for future episodes in the comments. I'll be trying to write a chapter for all episodes through the end of Season 3 during what will likely be a very long wait for Season 4.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me prompts each week for the episodes at [my tumblr](https://lunafeather.tumblr.com) :)


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